


I Promise Nothing

by MotherGiselle



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-31 22:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6490651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherGiselle/pseuds/MotherGiselle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke wakes up and...Isabela is still there?  Huh.  Well.  That's new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Promise Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Humerous/Charming/Purple Hawke, called "trashlord!Hawke" by my friends. Beta'd by the amazing Katey, who is awesome. All typos and other mistakes are my own.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age, which is the brainchild (and property) of BioWare and EA.

He was not at all surprised to wake up to an empty bed.  Not that Hawke would have minded finding Isabela still next to him, all warm skin and salt and a complete unwillingness to hear anything from him other than compliments for her performance.  It was charming, the way she drifted about, as though she was the sea itself.  Her easy nature, quick laugh, and sharp tongue were what had drawn him to her from the first.  
  
Well, that and her body.  He was infatuated, to be sure, but even blind men could see how attractive she was.  
  
Still, three years from when they had first slept together, he couldn’t help but idly want more.  Not to stifle her, never that.  There was just something….nice about waking to feel her weight next to him.  Or there had been, the one or two times it had happened.  
  
Hawke pushed himself up and looked around blearily.  He had never been an early riser.  He might be willing to get up if death or dismemberment were on the line, but even then it was a very close decision.  It took a few minutes to blink through the haze and another few to realize what he was seeing.  
  
A slim white shirt without sleeves.  A corset - he had offered to wear it in jest, and once had been forced to when he lost at Wicked Grace - that certainly was not his.  A blue bandana next to a pair of thigh-high boots.    
  
Isabela had left her clothes.  
  
Either, Hawke shrewdly deduced, Isabela was still in the estate somewhere, or she was running about Hightown naked.  Either would be an interesting turn of events.  Honestly, Hawke wasn’t sure which would be more amusing.  
  
All that hadn’t yet sunken in when Isabela, naked as the day she was born (save for the piercing, but for all Hawke knew she’d been born with that as well), sauntered into the doorway.  She leaned against the jamb, crossing her arms over her chest and smirking.  “You look surprised.”  
  
Yep, this was definitely more interesting than her running naked around Hightown.  Not as good a story for the Hanged Man, but way, way better in person.  “It pales in comparison to the shock on Sandal’s face though, doesn’t it?”  He said, grinning.  
  
 “I think he has a thing for me.”  Her hips swayed as she made her way into the room.  
  
Hawke sat up further in attention, making his bed clothes slide down low on his hips.    
  
Isabela went on, “Could barely say more than his name.”  
  
“Yeah, with me he usually speaks in rhymes,” Hawke said, deadpan.  He shifted to create more room for her to join him on his bed.  There was no reason for it, of course; Isabela wasn’t one to need an invitation.  Still, giving her more incentive couldn’t hurt.  He slid his hands over the sheet, as though showing off a particularly impressive….dress?  That was something people showed off, right?  
  
She chuckled softly, and collapsed gracefully next to him.  “Struck stupid?  I can hardly blame you.  I am amazing.”  
  
“ _Struck_ stupid?  We both know I started there,” he retorted.  The smile wouldn’t leave his face, and it probably would annoy her soon.  She’d know that he had kept ignoring her command to ‘not have feelings’ if he didn’t do something about that.  
  
Hawke couldn’t stop himself, though, and didn’t really care to. Like he’d said, his emotions weren’t exactly her choice.  Hell, they weren’t even his.  They just were.  She fit there.  
  
“You look remarkably….here…this morning,” he pronounced.  
  
She rolled her eyes.  “I was hungry, and stealing from your larder is far too easy,” Isabela teased.  There was a flash of something in her eyes, though.  If he had to guess, Hawke would have almost said it was evasion.  Weird.  Isabela could lie straight to your face like few people he’d ever met.  
  
“I was so good in bed you couldn’t drag yourself away.  Needed more,” Hawke offered, since a true explanation did not seem to be forthcoming.    
  
Isabela huffed, but tucked a leg between his.  “If you ask me why I do what I do, I will stop doing it,” she told him, her eyes amused but a true threat clearly tucked into her words.  This made her nervous, staying here.  Letting him know she had stayed here.  Still afraid, he supposed, of the pain. Not her own pain, but his.    
  
He might be a stupid man, but he knew when to sound a tactical retreat.  
  
Hawke ran a calloused hand over the bare, silken skin of her hip, enjoying the feel and the contrast between her rich, dark skin and his lighter, harsher complexion.  “So if I ask why you do that thing with your tongue…”  
  
“You can kiss my tongue goodbye,” she finished, lips quirked in a challenge.  
  
Hawke grinned.  “Promise?”  
  
Isabela straddled him, and smirked.  “Oh, Hawke.  I promise you nothing.”


End file.
